You could say it was snowing
by maaike-fluffy
Summary: Oneshot. postHBP. Harry finds himself alone in the cold and lost in thought.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter & characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling and WarnerBros. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just messing around.

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**. . : You could say it was snowing: . . **

You could say it was snowing, but that would be an understatement. The earth was white. The trees were white. The scrubs were white. The houses were probably white too but the they could not be seen because the air was thick with white. Harry Potter shoved his numb hand in the pockets of his wintercloak and walked on, stubbornly refusing to let the weather stop him. He was leaning forward to avoid being blown over by the wind that was skinning his face and covering him in a think layer of snow.

He was alone. No one else ventured outside in this blizzard. Everyone was probably huddled up together in front of the hearth, with their steaming mugs of hot chocolate. In the morning, when the storm would be over, they could come out with woolly gloves and warm snowboots. Making men out of the snow and having furious snowball fights. That's what most people did during the Christmas hollidays. That's what _normal_ people did during christmas hollidays.

But Harry Potter wasn't normal. He had long since accepted that. Not everyone had though. Hermione had tried to convince him to stay for a few more days. Said it wasn't right to be away during christmas. Said that christmas was a time for family. She was right, too. But Harry didn't _have_ a family. He didn't even have a house where he could drink his hot chocolat. Hogwarts was ruined, and Privet Drive was history. Oh, yeah, the Weasleys would accept him. He knew they would allways accept him. He smiled faintly, thinking about the previous christmas. He supposed the Weasleys were something like family to him.

Thinking of the Weasley made him want to turn around an go back, but instead he shoved his hands even deeper into his pockets and walked on faster. It would be foolish to waste his time celebrating when there were urgent matters that he had to deal with. Matters that were ever present. Matters that spoiled joyous moments. Nagging at him in the back of his brain, even when he tried to shut it out. Matters that couldn't be defeated. Matters that couldn't be killed.

Voldemort. He haunted Harry everywere. His thoughts. His mind. In his sleep. Even when he was awake. Every decision he made. Voldemort had taken so much from him. He remebered Lupin, something he'd once said. About Voldemort. And about not allowing him the power to infuence your desicions. Or something. Harry knew it was too late. His whole life had been infuenced by Voldemort. The last thing Voldemort had cost Harry... Ginny. And Harry couldn't really blame Voldemort either. He had done it himself, hadn't he? He was the one who felt he had to be noble. Keeping her safe meant keeping her away. Keeping her away meant losing the very thing he cared about. All Voldemorts doing, yet Harry's own fault.

Harry knew he had made a mistake there. But he was too stubborn to admit that, even to himself. So he would just continue making the same mistake. Over and over again. He pushed everyone away. Everything he cared about. Everything he loved.

Love. What kind of useless power was that? How could he defeat Voldemort with _love_ if he couldn't even handle it himself. Stupid, ruddy, useless, pathetic _love_.

Harry didn't even realise he had reached his destination, until he was standig right in front of it. His parents. Long rows of stones, flanking both sides of a winding path. Everything was hidden under a thick blanket of snow, but Harry had been here so many times he knew the way by heart.

Harry crouched down and swept most of the snow away. Two stones. His parents. _James Potter_ and _Lily Potter-Evans _were lying next to each other. In the middle, Harry knew, was a single red rose . Exactly where he had put it, but it was hidden under the white blanket as well. Harry dug up the rose and put it on top of his mother's stone. Lupin had told him James had never liked roses, said they weren't _manly_. Lupin had grinned and told Harry James only liked lillies.

Harry had spent ages at the graveyard, eversince he found out it's location. The snow was melting and soaked his clothes. Harry didn't care. It was the mirror of Erised all over again. He had found a bit of his parents back. And he wasn't willing to leave it.

Last time Dumbledore had been there to help him. _It doesn't do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live_. But what if the dreams were better than reality? Would Dumbledore have had an anwer to that? He probably would. Dumbledore always had an anwer to everything. It used to annoy Harry, but now he longed for it. He longed for Dumbledore to tell him how to solve this. He longed for Sirius to tell him how to solve this. He longed for _somebody_ to help him out of this mess. And then realised all of those somebodys where huddled together at the fireplace in the Burrow, holding steaming cups of hot chocolat.

Harry sat there for a couple of hours. Lost in thought. His mind full of memories. Of old conversations. On depressing thoughts. On wild plans. And then on realisations.

He felt so damn _alone_. He stood up with a grunt. His body was still and cold.

His hand moved into his pocket and pulled out a flower. A lily. He put it down and dragged his feet away. Back trough the blizzard. Back to... nothing

'Bye dad'.

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Right. Well, it's been a while since I've tried my hand at fanfiction. But it was so ruddy boring at work… I've been toying with it, en then decided to post it. Let me know what you think. 


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